AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Born and raised there,” Quint confirmed with a nod. “How about you? Are you a native Texan?”
“Of course.” There was an impish light in her eyes. “Care to guess where I was born?”
Quint laughed softly in response. “Something tells me it might be Dallas.”
“It’s a little obvious, isn’t it?” she agreed.
“I’d say you were lucky the hospital wasn’t in Fort Worth.”
“True. Although my mother told me that if she had gone to Fort Worth to deliver, she would have named me Gentry. But when I was born in Dallas, she thought it would be more original to name me after the city of my birth. Of course, you have to understand, she had an absolute aversion to commonplace names. Her own was Mary Alice, and she hated it.”
Made sensitive by the recent loss of his father, Quint was quick to note her use of the past tense in referring to her mother. “How long has she been gone?”
“It was seven years ago this past spring.”
“It’s hard losing a parent,” he said, speaking as much for himself as for her.
“Yes.” But she seemed a little surprised that he understood that. After an instant’s hesitation, Dallas glanced down at his untouched salad. “You’d better dig in,” she told him. “Your steak will be up soon.”
Left alone again, Quint picked up his fork and started on the salad with a renewed appetite, only distantly aware that his conversation with her, brief as it had been, had stimulated a male kind of hunger as well.
During the course of his meal, he had more occasions to talk to her, some exchanges longer than others. On a subconscious level, Quint knew it was all part of an age-old dance between a man and a woman. He had long ago become familiar with the steps to it, the advance and retreat, and the waiting and watching for that signal from the woman indicating her interest, or lack thereof.
With the only other remaining customer at the cash register, Quint let his attention focus on Dallas, recalling the small, personal things he had learned about her tonight and the thousands more he still wanted to know—things like whether her hair felt as smooth as it looked, and the look of her light brown eyes when passion glazed them.
There was a natural grace to the relaxed, yet erect, posture of her body, long and slim and unmistakably feminine in its well-proportioned curves.
His bill paid, the man at the register headed out the door, and Dallas emerged from behind the counter and looked directly at Quint, her eyes bright and alive to him.
“Ready for more coffee?” Her warm smile was an encouragement to agree.
But Quint wasn’t really interested in another cup of coffee. “What time do you close?”
“Usually whenever the last customer leaves,” she admitted easily. “But don’t let that stop you from having another cup if you want it.”
“I think I’m coffee-ed out.”
“Are you sure?”
Quint detected a kind of regret in her look, giving him hope that the evening wouldn’t be coming to a quick end. “I’m sure.” Rising, he collected his hat and the check for his meal, then followed Dallas when she retraced her steps to the cash register counter. He slid the check and the cash to pay it across the counter to her. “Do you have a way home after work?”
She nodded, explaining, “I’m parked out back.”
“Since I can’t offer you a ride home, maybe I could buy you a drink over at Tillie’s when you’re through.” Her hesitation was immedia
te and obvious. He could only think of one reason why that would be. “Sorry,” he said. “Maybe I should have asked if you’re married.”
“I’m not.” The denial came in a rush, but it didn’t change the mix of uncertainty and regret in her expression. “It’s just that—”
“It’s just what?” He didn’t understand why the answer wasn’t a simple yes or no. Yet it clearly wasn’t for Dallas. “It isn’t this thing with Rutledge, is it?” That thought was followed instantly by another. “Are you worried that Rutledge will cause trouble if you’re seen with me?” The possibility aroused all his protective instincts in a surge of anger.
“Heaven knows he’s capable of it.” Looking at Quint, Dallas couldn’t help remembering the way friends and neighbors—people she had known for years—had shied away from any contact with her and her grandfather during their battle with the Rutledges. A public shunning couldn’t have been much worse. “But that has nothing to do with my problem. I have finals next week. Tonight and tomorrow is the only free time I have to study.”
“I understand.” There was a polite curve to his mouth that seemed to match the expressionless set of his features.
She couldn’t let the night end like this. Dallas couldn’t even say why she felt that so strongly, but she did. “Of course,” she began, “an hour one way or the other shouldn’t make that much difference. Maybe I could join you for just one drink before I head home and hit the books.”
“I promise I won’t try to talk you into two.” His gray eyes sparkled with a warmly intimate look.
